


Yes

by KingOfTheCliche



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bunker Sex, Castiel in the Bunker, Castiel/Dean Winchester in the Bunker, First Time, Hurt Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, wound care
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2015-04-16
Packaged: 2018-03-23 07:26:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3759583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KingOfTheCliche/pseuds/KingOfTheCliche
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean takes care of Castiel's wounds. It's no big deal, until it is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yes

By the time they got home, they were all exhausted. Sam disappeared into the shower immediately. Dean looked at his retreating back worriedly. Sam hadn’t received any vicious blows that Dean was aware of, but there were some nasty words flung around and his brother’s sagging shoulders worried Dean more than most physical wounds could. Even more so because he still didn’t know how to heal the hurt he couldn’t see, even after all those years.

He was pulled out of his reverie by a small whimper. Cas was swaying on his feet, with an ashen complexion and his teeth firmly pressed together.

‘Let’s get you cleaned up’, Dean sighed. Cas’ leaking Grace made him more susceptible to exhaustion, as he had demonstrated today. One second of indecision, one second of immobility, had been enough to be on the receiving end of the blunt force of a sharp, albeit short, knife.

‘I’m fine’, Cas retorted tonelessly.

Dean almost smiled at that. Cas was not fine, but his mastery of linguistic lies was – for lack of better word – endearing. ‘Take of your coat, I’ll be back in a moment.’ He hurried to his room, took the biggest of the three first-aid kits he had lying around and went back to the library, where Cas still stood like a mariner who’d lost his land legs to the ocean.

Dean carefully pushed him backwards, until Cas’ lower back hit the big table.

‘Sit down’, Dean ordered him. He felt the familiar surge of determination and controlled panic when he opened the first-aid kit and turned to assess the damage. ‘Your Grace might still be able to take over the healing process, but I say we leave nothing to coincidence.’

Cas’ eyes were a bit glazed over, so Dean pushed the trench coat of his shoulders, together with the suit jacket and laid them a bit farther on the table. Cas’ white dress shirt was blooming red underneath his fourth rib, but it was a relatively small stain – just a flesh wound. It probably still hurt like a bitch though, because when Dean pulled the shirt out of Cas’ trousers and the fabric slid by the skin, Cas sucked in a breath and gripped the edge of the table.

‘Sorry’, Dean murmured. ‘I just need to get this off you so I can see.’

‘I know’, Cas said, with a heart breaking attempt at a reassuring smile.

Dean took the scissors out of the kit and started cutting the shirt off the flesh. When he was absolutely sure there was no more crusted blood sticking the two together, he quickly popped the remaining buttons.

Despite the nice, warm temperature in the library, Cas shivered when Dean released him from the last part of his would-be shirt. Dean could see some smaller gashes that would need tending, but he focused first on the big one that could have pierced Cas’ lungs hadn’t Sam thrown himself against the rogue angel who’d brandished the angel blade. Dean briefly closed his eyes to shake the image. He needed to focus.

‘Sam is a brave man’, Castiel said.

Dean looked up. ‘You promised you couldn’t read minds.’

‘I can’t.’ This time Cas’ smile was almost effortless. ‘It was kind of obvious where your thoughts went.’

‘That is nothing to smile about.’ Dean uncapped the antibacterial tonic. ‘You two throwing yourself at the bad guys is what’s gonna get me into an early grave.’ _If this Mark doesn’t get me there first._

‘He just wanted to help.’ Cas eyed the disinfectant suspiciously. ‘And I am grateful for that.’

‘Hmm.’ Dean grabbed Castiel’s shoulder tightly and said: ‘Try not to move too much.’ He poured the tonic over the gaping wound, cleaning it out the best he could while simultaneously trying not to squirm in pain at the tight grip Cas had the hand on his shoulder in.

‘Okay.’ Dean put the tonic down. ‘Now for the stiches… can I have my hand back?’ The last came out a bit harder than he intended, because Castiel had started rubbing small circles over his knuckles and Dean couldn’t have that. He couldn’t have that at all.

Cas released him and Dean went on preparing the stiches. He pulled a chair near and told Cas curtly to open his legs so he could sit and reach the wound properly. Cas hesitated briefly, with a look at the needle in Dean’s hand.

‘Relax. Sam and I have done this before, millions of times.’ Dean managed to placate Cas’ worry with those words, even though he had to admit to himself that the way his leg was jumping like a bunny on steroids was a far cry from how he usually handled stitching Sam up.

Cas parted his knees and Dean pushed his chair closer to the table, carefully examining the wound so he could choose the best starting point.

‘Okay, this is gonna hurt a bit, but try not to be a baby.’ Despite his comforting words, Cas grabbed the hair at the top of Dean’s head the moment the needle first entered his skin. Dean grunted irritably, but his hands weren’t shaking and he still had a clear visual.

Cas’ hand remained on the top of his head for the entire time Dean sat tending to his mangled flesh. In the background the antique library clock chimed ten. When Dean approached the end of the gash and put his finishing touch on it, he noticed that Cas’ hand was more on his face than his head now. The palm of his hand covered Dean’s ear lightly, his four fingers where plunged in his spiked hair and his thumb was once again running circles, this time around Dean’s temple.

Dean cut the thread, but didn’t move away yet. There were still other wounds to tend. He didn’t pick up the disinfectant yet though, instead looking up at Cas’ half lidded eyes. ‘Cas’, he said quietly.

‘Don’t make me apologize’, Cas whispered, almost brokenly.

Dean closed his mouth and swallowed hard. They’d had this conversation before. Once. Twice. Dean had explained himself in detail. He had explained why what Cas was feeling – what he thought he was feeling – was a result of his disorientation because of his continuing estrangement from the angel and the only world he had known in a long time. Dean had explained how Cas was fixating on something else to combat the losses he had suffered. Dean had explained it all.

Yet situations like these kept creeping up. They’d go days, weeks, months without an inappropriate word or touch and then suddenly they’d find themselves in a space too small for the two of them. Hard to breathe. Harder to speak.

‘Cas,’ Dean repeated, determined and a bit shaky, though that last one wasn’t his fault.

‘You were wrong, Dean.’ Cas sounded confident, strong even, but the tremor in his hand betrayed him. Before Dean could speak again, he continued. ‘You said I missed my family. That I wanted you to be my family.’

Dean sat still, looking up at the fading man who had once been an angel.

‘I do miss my family, but I don’t want you to be my family. Not in that way’, Cas added when he saw Dean’s frown. ‘We don’t share blood, no matter how many times we bleed for each other. We are not related in any way. Yet I feel close to you.’ Cas breathed in deeply. ‘And I know – I am certain, that you feel close to me too.’

Dean didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to handle this. Part of him wanted to get up, kick the chair away and yell at Castiel until his lungs were raw. He wanted to grab him by the throat and beat him just like Cas had beaten him to bits, so many years ago. He wanted to throw the first-aid kit through the library and step on the contents until a stray needle cut his Achilles’ tendons.

But he couldn’t.

Cas was hurt. He was bloody and tired and woozy and Dean would just have to suck it up until he could get Cas to sleep. He pressed his lips together and took the disinfectant. ‘Long ago,’ he said, with a tightly controlled voice, ‘my father saw me look at a friend a bit too long. It can’t have been more than a few seconds, but he took me aside and explained to me –’ he dabbed the disinfectant on Cas’ collar bone ‘– he explained to me that men can be either friends, or brothers. He explained to me that – ’

‘I’ve heard this before.’ Cas seemed unfazed by the stinging of the disinfectant. ‘And I’ve said before; John Winchester was a great man, but he was not infallible. Your father was capable of mistakes, Dean. This is one of them.’

Dean was annoyed at having been interrupted, but he kept on bandaging. ‘Your bible –’ he continued stubbornly, but Cas grabbed his wrist and forced him to look up again.

‘My bible?’ he blazed. ‘I was not the one who wrote it, Dean. You humans did that. Don’t throw some glorified work of fiction into this – ’

‘Don’t call it that.’ Dean taped up the gash on Cas’ collarbone and moved on to the one underneath his nipple, across from the first one. ‘We still use it to bless holy water and banish spirits, so there’s some power to it.’

‘You have no problem playing pool, gambling, drinking or fornicating with every woman between here and British Columbia.’ Cas looked him right in the eye. ‘Don’t you pretend to me that the Word means anything to you at all.’

Dean lowered his eyes and inspected the last gash, the one over Cas’ abdomen. When he took the tonic again, he noticed that his hands had started trembling again.

‘Your father is dead.’ Cas’ voice sounded far away. ‘And it appears my Father and his Word are too.’ A light hand started scratching over his skull again. ‘I know you want this almost as much as I do, Dean. Be honest. What is stopping you?’

Dean took some gauze and applied it to Cas’ abdomen. His hands floated over what was unmistakably a straining erection in Cas’ trousers. His fingers hovered downward, but he stopped himself at the last moment.

‘What is stopping you?’ Cas repeated, more urgent than before.

Dean stood up. The chair scraped over the wooden floors, disturbing the near-silence. He put some antibacterial gel from the kit, put some on his fingers and started dabbing it along Cas’ cheekbones, where the last of his hurt was visible.

‘What is stopping me?’ Dean spread the gel out over Cas’ skin. ‘Men can be either friends, or brothers. We’re not brothers, as you’ve pointed out yourself. And if we start something without properly thinking – ’ Dean dabbed the last of the gel, but he couldn’t stop himself from letting his fingers linger on Cas’ stubble ‘ – chances are we won’t be able to be friends either.’

‘Dean – ’

But Dean abruptly stepped back and started packing the kit. ‘You’re exhausted. Go to bed, Cas. I’ll see you in the morning.’

*

Lying in his own bed, staring at the ceiling, Dean replayed the entire conversation in his head. Cas had changed so much in the last few years. His short escapades to and from heaven had made his vessel age slightly, so he looked a bit more human than he did before. Dean didn’t know whether he liked it. The old Castiel he could understand. Either you played along or you got beat up. This new, humanoid Cas that had emerged out of the rubble of the Leviathan made him want to crawl out of his skin. He never knew what he was gonna say or do next. It was infuriating.

Dean didn’t want to add sex to the difficult equation that he and Cas had already become. He knew how sex worked; you played till you were satisfied and then you discarded and continued the search for someone else to quench the thirst. All that lovey dovey crap people liked to link to it was just an elaborate marketing strategy to make sure kids had parents. That was all.

He didn’t want to add sex to it.

Except he did.

Looking at Castiel, following his movements and wondering how they differed from yesterday or the day before, it made him feel things. A lot of things. Curiosity. Endearment. Lust.

Unbidden, the memory of his father sprang up again and with it Cas’ dismissal of John Winchester’s memory. Dean knew he sounded like broken record, even to his own ears, but he firmly believed Dad had done the best job he could and he wasn’t about to waste the precious few parenting moments he could remember on some yearning he had no business feeling in the first place.

Dean got out of bed, put on a shirt and walked to Sam’s room. It got like this sometimes. When he started missing Dad, he sought out Sam, because he could always find something of Dad’s in Sam. Sam would deny it vehemently, but they’d become almost one and the same, John and Sam Winchester. Especially when Sam crossed thirty and his moral compass got the same skewed, pragmatic makeover John’s had had.

He knocked softly on Sam’s door, fully aware of how late it was.

‘Dean?’ Sam was only wearing boxers and his hair was a bird’s nest waiting to be decorated. His eyes were still half closed. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing. I just wondered about Dad, you know. He’s been gone for a while and – ’

‘Dean,’ Sam interrupted him, ‘could we please, _please_ , do this tomorrow? I’m beat. Whatever it is, if you found a clue in his journal or whatever, can it please be done in daylight?’

Dean took a long, hard look at Sam and saw the circles under his eyes, the slumped look of his shoulders. Sam didn’t look like he’d woke up from sleeping, but rather like he’d crawled out of a grave. And Dean should know what that looked like.

‘Alright, go to sleep, you big baby.’

Sam closed the door and Dean turned on his heels, on his way back to his room. When he passed Cas’ door though, he stood still. He should go in there and make him understand, he thought. Cas never knew John Winchester. He never knew the kind of hero the man had been. Dean should enlighten him.

When he pushed the door open, he was almost surprised to find Cas sleeping, before he remembered his fading grace. Cas slept. Like a human.

In the dim light from the corridor Dean could discern Cas’ face, relaxed and peaceful. He did a few steps forward and sank on his knees to the side of the bed, still not breaking his stare. He knew he was being a creep, but Cas had been a creep long before Dean was, so this was nothing but payback.

When he touched Cas’ forehead, his breathing stopped and his eyes flew open.

‘Shh, it’s me.’ Dean didn’t know why that should reassure Cas, but it seemed to work a little.

‘What’s wrong?’ Cas asked, in a strange echo of Sam.

Dean was on the verge of explaining all about his father and how awesome he had actually been and how he wanted to be respectful to his memory, but instead his mouth surprised him by forming the words: ‘I changed my mind.’

Cas stared at him. Dean stared back. The silence stretched out longer and longer, until Cas slowly sat up and moved backwards to lean against the headboard. With a pang of guilt Dean remembered his wounds, Cas could probably use the rest Dean was stealing from him.

‘I – I didn’t mean to –’

‘Close the door and come here.’

Dean blinked, but did as he was told. This was Cas’ room after all, he had the right to be authoritative. When Dean came back to the bed, Cas reached out his hand and pulled Dean down, so he was sitting on the bed, facing him sideways.

‘Can I?’ Cas asked, his voice deeper than normal. His eyes raked over Dean’s face, searching for any sign of him changing his mind – again.

Instead, Dean nodded and braced himself.

Cas leaned forward and caught Dean’s lips with his own. As far as first kisses went, it wasn’t bad. It wasn’t bad at all. Cas licked his lower lip lightly and then he pushed inside, kissing Dean deeply. When their tongues made contact, Dean could hear a low moan that he would later swear never came from him.

‘Come closer.’ Cas didn’t wait for Dean to comply, but instead pulled him by the waist, until Dean was straddling Cas, who was leaning with his back against the headboard. When Dean shifted forward a little bit, he could feel Cas’ straining erection against his own, despite the two pairs of pyjama pants in the way.

Cas’ hands were suddenly everywhere. Dean was still headless from the kissing, so he barely noticed Cas stroking his back, until his hands dipped underneath his ratty, old shirt and skimmed over his naked skin.

Dean broke the kiss and looked down their hips, trying to get his bearings. This is why he didn’t want to do this, he thought, a little panicked. When he was with women, he almost always had the upper hand. He set the pace, the rules and everything else that needed setting. When he was with men, however, his brain could barely connect a to b, let alone make up a plan of attack and stick to it.

‘Stop thinking’, Cas growled and pulled Dean’s shirt over his head.

‘Okay’, Dean managed to say before Cas pulled him closer and licked a broad stroke over his left nipple.

Dean almost yelped.

Cas’ fingers dipped into his pants and started kneading his ass, teasing the crack slightly, but never going all the way.

‘You’re good at this’, Dean managed to grit out. His hands where flat on the headboard, in attempt to regain some equilibrium.

‘I’ve roamed the earth for millennia, Dean. I have occupied numerous vessels, loved numerous – ’

‘Okay, shut up.’ Dean ducked his head and kissed Castiel’s neck, hard. He sucked a mark into the skin as red as he could manage.

Cas chuckled softly. His hands travelled to the front of Dean’s pants. ‘Can I?’ he asked.

Dean was very aware of the door behind him. He didn’t have to do this. He could just get up and go back to his room and deal with his panic tomorrow morning.

‘Please?’ Castiel begged, his voice, his eyes, his entire face wrecked.

‘Yes’, Dean whispered. Castiel pulled the waistband of the pyjamas down gripped Dean’s cock, harder than Dean expected, but softer than what he would have done himself. Cas held his other hand palm up and it took Dean a moment to understand that Cas wanted him to lick it, which he did, thoroughly.

Cas started stroking him, alternating light and hard strokes. Meanwhile his other hand creeped back to Dean’s ass, one finger sliding into the crack.

‘Wait’, Dean said suddenly; Castiel stopped moving at once. ‘We – we need something. I can’t – It’s been too long.’

Cas let out a breath of relief and released Dean, who used the opportunity to kick off his pants entirely. Cas reached for the night stand and took out a bottle of pink lube.

Dean crooked an eyebrow. ‘Presumptuous much?’

‘No,’ Cas laughed sheepishly, ‘I use it for myself.’

‘O.’ Dean sat there staring at Cas for a moment, before diving forwards and roughly pulling Cas’ pants off, followed by his shirt. Cas leaned against the headboard again and pulled Dean back onto his lap. _I’m sitting on another man’s lap_ , Dean thought, but there was no panic anymore, just wonder and a tiny bit of fear.

Cas generously coated his fingers with lube and reached behind Dean.

‘Ready?’ he whispered. When Dean nodded, he inserted the tip of his index, up until the first knuckle, then he retracted the finger.

‘What –’ Dean managed to get out.

‘Shh.’ Cas grabbed Dean’s cock and pumped it a few times to get it back up. Meanwhile he inserted his index again, up until the second knuckle this time and thrust it very lightly. On the third thrust, he went all the way in and stayed there for a second.

‘Okay?’ he asked.

‘Yeah.’ Dean had his eyes closed and tried to adjust to the tiny intrusion. He’d forgotten the amount of trust needed to allow somebody to do this.

Cas inserted his middle finger alongside the index and started to scissor Dean, first a little bit, then wider and wider. When his fingers brushed a bundle of nerves that made Dean jump up like a wound spring, he smiled lightly.

‘I think that’s enough’, Dean blurted, trying to keep his voice steady.

‘Not quite.’ Cas added a third finger and Dean shuddered, but didn’t pull away. His breathing was coming very fast, but still he declared: ‘Let me do the rest.’

Cas pulled out his fingers and put his hands on Dean’s hips. Dean put his hands against the headboard again and lifted to his knees, positioning himself over Cas’ lap. He lowered himself onto his leaking dick, going very slowly at first, then sitting down abruptly and sheathing Cas to the hilt.

‘Dean’, Cas ground out. ‘Move.’

Dean rolled his hips experimentally. It took him a few tries to get the right rhythm going, but when he found it, and Cas’ dick kept scraping that magical spot inside him, he saw white veins behind his eyelid.

Cas kept mumbling his name, together with a whole lot of other stuff Dean couldn’t make out, but considering Cas had abandoned one of his hips to furiously jerk Dean off, he didn’t have the stamina to ask linguistic questions, especially when Cas abandoned his other hip and pulled his head forward in a crashing kiss.

That was the moment Dean came undone. His sounds were muffled in Cas’ mouth and his nails dug into the wood of the headboard. It seemed like an eternity before he could open his eyes again and watch Castiel’s fanatical expression change from passion to something deeper, something that seemed to hurt him on the surface of his being.

It was all surprisingly fast over after that. Cas bucked his hips up and came with Dean’s name on his tongue. Dean could feel the slick heat shooting inside him and took the time to suck another mark into Cas’ chest.

They both lay heaving in the dark. Sticking against each other, before the weight of Cas inside him became uncomfortable and Dean lifted himself off again. Something slick and warm leaked down and out of his hole and he pulled a face, but couldn’t make himself regret it on a deeper level.

‘How do you feel?’ Cas asked, completely and utterly fucked out.

‘Gross’, Dean replied truthfully. When he saw the shadow fall over Cas’ face, he quickly added: ‘As in sticky, not the other kind of gross.’

Cas smiled ruefully. He hesitated briefly and then asked quietly: ‘Stay the night?’

Dean smiled back, but shook his head. He got up, collected his pyjama pants from the floor and walked to the door. Without really being able to explain to himself why, he looked back and nodded at Cas, who watched him with squinty eyes and a smile that spelled water.

 

**Author's Note:**

> (SPOILERS for 10x18 Book of the Damned.) This is my way of saying goodbye to human!cas. Let me know what you think and if you want, you can follow me on scrubyourheart.tumblr.com.


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